Law #2: Don't Play with a Player: A Sweet Office Romance Story (Laws of Love)

by Agnes Canestri

  Cat sniffs as if to remind me it’s Saturday.

  “Laia! I’m coming in.” The door opens before I can find a suitable escape. I’m frozen in front of the bed, my hands gripping his blanket.

  His face moves into a smile—a rather friendly one considering the misery I put him through last night.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks.

  I drop the blanket and comb through my hair with my fingers. Jeez, I must look a mess with all the knots.

  “Good. Just a bit of…” I start, but when his brows furrow, I decide to go with the truth. “Fine, I feel like a tomahawk just landed in the middle of my skull.”

  “That kind of throbbing is gruesome,” he chuckles.

  Isn’t he upset with me for getting tipsy in his favorite jazz club and ruining the night for him?

  “Come,” he waves to me, “I’ve made some breakfast. Food will help with the pain.” Without waiting for me to react, he turns and walks out.

  I throw a side-glance at Cat, half-expecting the animal to advise me on what to do. Cat is licking her paws and doesn’t answer, so it’s up to me.

  I opt to follow Devon.

  At some point, I’ll need to leave his guest room anyway. Also, the delicious smell seeping in from the kitchen is almost unbearable for my empty stomach.

  Devon has set the large oval table in the living room. There’s a white plate filled with various yummy treats on a red tablecloth. His scrambled eggs look like they’re cooked to perfection.

  I take my seat and press my palms to my thighs because my fingers want to immediately grab the fork.

  Devon sits down, too, and pours himself a coffee. He doesn’t have a plate. Has he eaten already? Does it mean that I can start without waiting for him?

  Devon grins at me. “Dig in before it gets cold. I’m already done with breakfast.”

  He doesn’t have to tell me twice. I’m so hungry it takes all my willpower not to fetch the bacon with my bare fingers.

  I’m just chewing on a delicious piece that’s as crispy as if my mother made it when Devon asks, “By the way, did you lose your house keys?”

  “What? Did I? Oh, no.”

  Chelsea will kill me when she finds out. We’ve already changed the lock once when I forgot my keys in San Sebastian after visiting my family.

  Devon opens his arms and shrugs. “I’m not sure. I tried the ones from your purse last night. They didn’t work. That’s why I brought you here. I didn’t want to wake your neighbors.”

  Then it hits me. I swallow my bite. “You must’ve taken me to Luis’s flat. That’s not where I live.”

  Devon’s jaw drops. “Who is Luis?”

  “He’s my brother. A soldier. He currently serves at a military base in Germany. I listed his house on my resume. In reality, I live together with Chelsea. When we came to the interview, we decided to give separate postal addresses.”

  “Why?” Devon inquires.

  “We feared that being roomies might be a problem in the selection process.”

  “Well, it wouldn’t have been. But it could have saved you from spending a night in the company of my cat.” Devon winks.

  “Oh, I didn’t mind. Your bed was very comfortable. Your guest bed, I mean,” I add.

  “I’m glad.” He flashes a bright smile. “When I bought my place, I imagined my parents would come to Phoenix more often after they retire. That’s why I set up the spare room. But my folks prefer to stay put and have Ellie and me visit them.”

  “So you’re not from Phoenix?” I arch my brows.

  I somehow assumed that a popular man like Devon must’ve lived his whole life in a big city.

  “No, I was born in Washington State, in a small town. Before starting high-school, after my breathing therapy finished, my family decided to move to Kingman, Arizona.”

  “Kingman? Get out? You lived there?”

  Devon arches his brows. “You know it? It’s not a famous place.”

  “Well, not according to my father. He’s a fan of the Route 66 Museum, primarily their cars exhibit, of course. He dragged our family there once when he was on leave. For years, I used to have a picture in my bedroom of a Studebaker I snapped during that trip.”

  Devon’s eyes widen. “Huh, that’s still a place I often hit when I go home. Especially since they added their international electric vehicle exhibit. There’s a 1912 CT commercial truck on show. It’s not like any duallys you’ve ever seen. It boosts triple-wide, solid rubber tires mounted on wooden spoke wheels. It basically makes the driver sit ten feet in the air…it’s a real monster!”

  “Ah, I’d love to see that,” I say because Devon’s description gives me the goosebumps. “You know, I have a hard time believing you come from a small town like I do.”

  “I guess we have more things in common than you thought.”

  “I guess so, too. This could be the reason I—” I bite my lip just in time.

  Devon cocks his head. “You what?”

  Oh dear, this fun chat about our shared passion almost made me slip how much I like him.

  I pick up a small piece of bread from my half-empty plate and shape it into a ball before I raise my eyes to meet his. “I like working for you.”

  “Just working?”

  My eyes widen. “What do you mean?”

  He shrugs and gives me a lopsided grin. “I thought you might enjoy spending time with me outside of the office, too. Our afternoon at the car show was fun. Maybe you should come to Kingman someday. I’d love to take you to the museum and show you the new vehicles they’ve got.”

  My jaw drops. “You would?”

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I?”

  Doesn’t he remember last night?

  “Because of what happened in the club. I ruined your evening.” I meant to excuse myself for my behavior sooner, but the smell of bacon must’ve hijacked my reason. “I want you to know I’m mortified. I don’t usually…well, I’ve never actually gotten drunk in my life.”

  Devon adjusts his coffee cup and shakes his head. “No need to excuse yourself. You’re a cute tipsy person. A tad more daring than your usual self, but…” He pauses as if he remembers something. He clicks his tongue before he continues, “It wasn’t a burden to chaperone you. On the contrary.”

  “So you won’t fire me?”

  His eyes widen. “Fire you? No, why should I?”

  “Because…I said things I shouldn’t have. I called you stupid.”

  “You did.” Devon nods. “But you were right, I might have been stupid.”

  It’s my turn to look surprised. “Why would you say that?”

  “My sister told you about what happened with Morgan, right?”

  He stares at me, and the intensity of his gaze is such that I can’t bear to make a sound so I only nod.

  “I figured as much. Did she also mention I asked Morgan to marry me before finding out that she’d cheated on me?”

  I clasp a hand to my mouth to suppress a shocked gasp.

  “So Ellie didn’t dish everything.” Devon’s voice isn’t annoyed, only sad. “Well, I did. I proposed to Morgan, and she accepted. But only a few hours after I became her fiancé, I learned that she had an affair with a friend of mine from the college faculty.”

  “With a friend of yours? Oh, that’s horrible,” I whisper. “My closest experience to being betrayed was when Bobby, my prom date, whom I used to be head over heels about, admitted to me that he’d only accepted to show up in public with me because Chelsea promised she’d go out with him if he took me to the dance.”

  Devon tilts his head, his mouth agape.

  “Oh, sorry. I don’t know why I came up with this silly example,” I mutter. “My high school heartache is nothing compared to the treason you’ve suffered.”

  Devon’s gaze heats with something that makes the blood thicken in my veins. “Please don’t depreciate your experiences. I might’ve made that mistake myself, but I’m not going to repeat it again. Also, just for the rec
ord, your prom date had to be a giant dullard if he couldn’t recognize just what a treasure you are.”

  His statement takes my breath away.

  “Thank you,” I mumble because nothing wittier comes to mind.

  “No, thank you,” Devon says. “Your speech last night got me thinking. I’ve been replaying parts of it in my mind this morning.”

  Oh, dear heaven…which parts?

  “Really?” I squeeze the sound out with considerable effort.

  Devon leans forward, planting his elbows on the tablecloth. “Yes. And you’re right. I shouldn’t chase empty relationships. In fact, I decided I won’t. Not anymore.”

  With each word, my chin drops lower. “Are you Devon?”

  Devon chuckles. “Yes, it’s still me. I just had a…an epiphany. Come to think of it, I could even propose you a little deal concerning it.”

  “A deal?” I chew on my lower lip.

  “Yes. I’ll stop going after meaningless flings if you quit putting yourself down and finally realize you’re much better than what you think, or what pricks like Bobby made you believe.”

  I gape at him, wide-eyed.

  Is he serious? Or did the aliens kidnap him while I slept?

  “So what do you think of our deal? Are you game?” he asks.

  “Well, I could surely use a final push to abandon my harsh self-critique but… I’d like to understand…did you have a change of heart just because of what I told you?”

  Devon sighs. “Not only. You remember the teahouse? The woman we met there was—”

  “Morgan.”

  “Yes. I haven’t seen her in a long time. But when I saw her in Okinawa, I wasn’t particularly touched. This clearly means that, despite the love I had for her, Morgan wasn’t the love of my life. Thus, her mistake shouldn’t make me doubt the importance of soulmates.”

  I grab my glass to take a sip because my throat is suddenly parched.

  When I lift it, I realize it’s empty. Devon immediately grabs a bottle of water and pours my glass full.

  Like real full, up to the rim.

  “Oh, sorry,” he says. “I like my glasses almost brimming. Shall I throw away a bit so that you can more easily drink?”

  “No, that’s perfect.”

  Devon and I both like our cups full?

  This fact, coupled with his admission about wanting to believe in soulmates again, does more damage to my soul than a dumdum bullet could.

  How am I ever going to convince myself that I’m not falling for Devon?

  Devon, unaware of my inner battle, clears his throat. “Anyway, my new behavior isn’t something that will come easily to me. I’ve spent way too many years being cynical about love. That’s why…” He throws me a speculative glance. “I thought you could help me.”

  “Meeee?”

  Heat rushes to my head, and I feel dizzy at the possible implications behind his words.

  “Yes.” Devon smiles. “You’re the person with the most unshakable belief about the importance of true love that I know. You’d be perfectly equipped to teach me how to become a believer. I’d like you to coach me on my road to being a reformed playboy.” He adds a wink to his last word.

  I wish I could react to his self-ironic joke with a smile, but my features are frozen. I’d thought he meant I could help him because…

  Of course, he wouldn’t mean it like that. Devon only wants me to coach him into a dream man so that he can find his dream woman.

  Who, obviously, is not me.

  Devon stares at me expectantly. “So, would you be up to it? I could lend you a hand with your self-confidence in return. This way, we would both nail our goals.”

  “But-t-t I’m your assistant,” I stutter, flashing my job title as armor.

  “Ah,” Devon waves, “I wouldn’t propose lessons at work. We could make time for them on the weekends, like today, for example. We could go to a park and then—”

  “Park!” I squeak, suddenly remembering the promise I made Alicia last Sunday. I’m supposed to watch her twins while she and her hubby run some errands.

  I peek at my watch and realize I barely have time to run home to shower and change.

  “Everything okay?” Devon asks.

  I jump up. “I’m sorry I need to go. I’m meeting someone at Margaret T. Hance Park at two.”

  “A date?” Devon’s face tenses.

  “Sort of,” I shrug. I don’t want to confess that it’s just babysitting duty.

  Devon straightens. “Ah, okay, then I won’t keep you.”

  I flash an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry. Can we discuss this coaching idea of yours later?”

  Or better, never.

  I don’t think I’m strong enough to coach Devon in his metamorphosis. I’m too involved emotionally.

  Way too involved.

  “Sure, okay,” he answers.

  I scurry to the corridor where I find my flats laid out nicely beside the entrance. Did Devon polish them? The soft leather glimmers more than usual. I decide to ignore the odd detail and slip them on.

  Devon is behind me. “So, you’re going to Margaret T. Hance Park? Which part then?”

  “Uhm, not sure.” I place my hand on the doorknob as if it could bring me closer to being out of Devon’s house and his bewitching closeness. “Near to the giant panda, I think.”

  Yes, that will be the perfect spot for the twins. It’s got plenty of shade.

  “Have fun. See you soon,” Devon says.

  “Yes, see you on Monday. Bye-bye.” I slip out of the door and head straight for the stairs.

  I don’t want Devon to wait for the elevator with me. I might need to burn twenty-three floors, but it’s still better than being forced to look at his handsome face any longer.

  Chapter 32

  (Devon)

  “Are you sure you don’t want to come with me?” I implore Pete on the phone, using my most persuasive tone.

  “I’m sorry, Dev, but I’ve planned a soccer-watching, chill-out session after last night’s heavy hitter. Thanks, by the way, for throwing me at the mercy of your sister. Ellie pestered me for at least an hour about how you and I should quit behaving like party-obsessed adolescents.”

  I can imagine Ellie’s arguments and Pete’s reaction to them all too well. I’m sure glad I didn’t have to participate in their discussion.

  But I still feel like apologizing to Pete. He’s fallen victim to my sister’s deadly matchmaker-slash-savior complex.

  “I’m sorry, mate. But if it’s any consolation, we didn’t stay in Jimmy’z too long either. Laia didn’t feel well, so I had to take her home.”

  I carefully avoid mentioning that the home I’m referring to is actually my own house. I only called him to see whether he is up to a run with me, not to entrust him with my secrets about Laia.

  “She looked fine to me when I saw her before Ellie dragged me out of the club. More than fine, in fact. Sizzling hot in that purple top. I sure wouldn’t have minded taking her home either. Your assistant got all her curves at the right places.” Pete smacks his lips, and I can picture him spreading his fingers like a budding flower, as he usually does.

  Irritation courses through me.

  “Pete, if you forgot, I’m her boss, so I can’t allow you to talk about her like that. Not now, not ever.”

  Pete snorts loudly in my ear. “Hey, tune it down a notch, mate. I was just kidding. I didn’t mean any harm. Jeez, what’s going on with you lately? You haven’t been clubbing for over two weeks. You give me the lamest excuses for your absence. When you finally agree to meet up, you invite your assistant and your sister to our jazz club, and now you jump down my throat because of some manly humor? If I didn’t know any better, I’d consider your inconsequential behavior as a sign that you’re in love…”

  His mocking tone makes my blood boil.

  “And what if I am?” I snap.

  “What if you are,” Pete repeats, chuckling, but then breaks off. “…wait, are you serious? Yo
u’ve fallen in love with someone?” When I don’t answer, he adds, “With your assistant?”

  “No,” I mumble, but my tone suggests that the answer is a yes.

  I decide to man up and own up to my feelings. At least if Pete learns I’m smitten with Laia, he won’t try to hit on her ever again. “Okay, I might not be in love with Laia just yet, but I’m walking on very thin ice toward that.”

  Pete draws in a few sharp breaths. “Woauha, that’s…uhm, surprising but not unexpected. I knew sooner or later you would yoke your head and settle. Not everyone is a true free spirit like me.”

  His comment draws a smile to my lips. “Yes, Pete, you’re unique.”

  “Thanks, buddy, for recognizing it,” Pete replies, his voice dripping from smugness. “What’s the deal? Does Laia love you back or what?”

  “No, unfortunately not. She’s attracted to me physically, but—”

  “What, but?” Pete interjects. “If she wants a piece of you, that’s your window of opportunity right there.”

  I sigh. “No, Laia isn’t like that. She is all about fairy tales and shiny armored heroes. And we both know I’m nowhere near that. Even if she were interested in an affair, which I repeat she isn’t, I don’t want just a fling with her. I want to be with her. But I couldn’t be more different than her idea of a fitting boyfriend.”

  “Ah, you’ve landed yourself a major crush, pal. But for what it’s worth, I think your sis believes you have a chance with your assistant. That would explain her possessiveness when I flirted with Laia.”

  Pete can seem superficial to some, but he has a bewildering talent to deduce hidden behavioral motivations in women. Probably because he has honed his skills with so many.

  “Yes, for some reason Ellie thinks mine isn’t a lost cause. That’s why she invited you. She wanted to give Laia and me some alone time.”

  “Did you put her up to it?”

  I snort. “Like I could ever convince my sis to go along with a scheme like that unless it was her idea. Nope, I didn’t even know Ellie would ambush you.”

  Pete laughs. “Well, it wasn’t an entirely wasted evening. After Ellie was done with her lecture, we had a pleasant meal. Anyway, what are you planning to do about Laia? Will you just silently adore her while you keep acting like her boss?”